


just close your eyes (and let me lead)

by SmoakScreen (midwestwind)



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Dancing, Dancing Lessons, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Romance, Waltzing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-17 16:08:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2315474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midwestwind/pseuds/SmoakScreen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know, it’s completely understandable that you’ve forgotten how to waltz but you and I both know it’s something you need to know for those fancy parties you’re always insisting on throwing.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	just close your eyes (and let me lead)

**Author's Note:**

> this is so 100% pointless, really just short, mindless fluff because it wouldn't leave me alone. also, i'm sure we've probably seen oliver dance at some point but swaying in place is a lot different than a waltz so, bear with me.

Felicity gasps in pain. Oliver immediately freezes and watches her worriedly.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she nods vigorously, “just keep going.” Oliver continues his rhythmic movements, concentrating fully on the task at hand. But when Felicity let’s out a little whimper of pain, Oliver immediately jumps away from her, hands dropping to his sides, and groans.

“I swear I used to be good at this,” he frowns and Felicity notices his thumbs and forefingers rubbing irritably against each other. She nods and takes a step towards him, her heels clicking once against the hardwood.

“It’s just gonna take a little practice, we’ll get it,” she promises, reaching out toward him. Oliver sighs but follows her lead, placing one hand in hers and the other on her waist. Once her hand is firm on his shoulder, she begins to count. They only make it about three measures into the music before he steps heavily on her toes again.

“Let’s just take a break for a minute,” Felicity gives in, reaching down down to slip her foot from her heel and rub her abused toes. Stepping out of the heels drops her about four inches and she has to crane her neck to look up at Oliver from her stooped position.

“You know, it’s completely understandable that you’ve forgotten how to waltz but you and I both know it’s something you need to know for those fancy parties you’re always insisting on throwing,” she reminds him, releasing her foot and moving across the room to switch off the music. When she looks back Oliver is rolling his neck and looking thoroughly bothered by the whole situation.

“My mother would hate knowing all those expensive lessons had eventually gone to waste,” he offers flippantly and Felicity bites her lip. It’s rare for him to mention Moira lately and when he does it’s usually like it’s some offhand joke and not something that she knows is still a open wound. She crosses back to him and slips her hand into his.

“I’m sure she’d understand.” Oliver raises an eyebrow at her.

“Did you _know_ my mother?” Felicity smirks at the incredulity in his voice. She tries to avoid talking about Moira, too, if she’s honest. She didn’t know the woman well but, well, it hadn’t been a good first, second, _tenth_ impression on either end. But if there was one thing she knew about Moira Queen, it was that she loved her children. Even if she had a lousy way of showing it.

“I know she loved you,” she tells him with a small smile. She hadn’t realized how her chest had tightened until he squeezes her hand once and it loosens up. His hand slips from hers as he turns and takes a seat on the bench in front of one of the mirrored walls. The dance studio is a little unsettling, with mirrors covering two of the walls facing each other, bouncing their reflections back and forth infinitely. A thousand little Olivers and Felicitys doing a poorly-timed and slightly painful waltz.

“How do you know how to waltz so well, anyway?” Felicity tears her eyes away from the mirror behind him and focuses on Oliver again at his question.

“What?” She smirks. “Are you saying I don’t exude the poise and grace of a trained ballroom dancer?” She strikes a kind of silly pose that displays exactly the amount of poise and grace she has and smiles when it earns her one of those breathy laughs she thoroughly enjoys hearing. She straightens and shrugs her shoulders, rolling her own neck a little.

“I watched a lot of dance movies when I was little. I begged my mom to put me in dance classes.” She doesn’t mention that it took her mother years to save up for it. She doesn’t mention that she didn’t find out that fact until she was seventeen and had long given up on her dance dreams. Doesn’t mention that she hates herself a little for having been so selfish and imperceptive as a child, even if it’s irrational.

“The waltz was the only thing I was ever any good at.” She hesitates, then adds, seriously, “well, that and krumping.” Oliver stares at her for a minute, face half caught in a smile and half confused, as if he can’t tell whether to believe her not. After a moment of staring at each other, he just shakes his head and stands, offering his hand to her.

“What do you say?” He asks, a more confident smile in place. “Another try?” She doesn’t take his hand right away, instead crossing to start the music again.

“Sure,” she nods, as she walks back towards him before frowning a little and pointing to his feet, “but this time no shoes.”

“Deal,” he grins, toeing off his shoes and pulling her much closer than the waltz requires.


End file.
